


Did You Forget Our Anniversary?

by justmattycakes



Series: Satisfaction Brought The Cat Back [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Consensual Surprise Sex, Continuation of the PS4 & Black Cat Strikes storylines, Crawling Through Your Window, F/M, Past Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, PeterFeliciaWeek, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Smut, Spiderkitten truther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/pseuds/justmattycakes
Summary: Peter is feeling lonely and left behind, can a sexy midnight visit from the Black Cat change all of that?Peter/Felicia Week Day 1: Midnight RendezvousCompliant with the events of the Spider-Man PS4 game and the companion comic, Black Cat Strikes.
Relationships: Felicia Hardy/Peter Parker
Series: Satisfaction Brought The Cat Back [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862881
Comments: 22
Kudos: 71
Collections: PeterFelicia Week 2020





	Did You Forget Our Anniversary?

Peter

It was nearly midnight, and Peter sat atop the Manhattan Bridge, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city.

New York always looked different from up above; there was a certain height where everything shifted and became skyline, like he'd truly escaped the pull of gravity and could see the arc of the horizon. That's how it felt on the bridge, his feet dangling off the edge and his mask in hand, the cool night air ruffling his hair. Peter breathed deeply and sighed.

He never got to share any of this with MJ, not really. She knew his secret, sure, but it wasn't like he could just swing her up here on a whim while they were together.

Peter and MJ were always at their best when they were a team, each playing to their strengths and trusting each other. But even then they had worked on separate tasks to cover more ground, like he did with Miles.

Up here, as Spider-Man, he was alone. He was used to it, and that was fine — or it would be if he wasn't so alone as Peter Parker, too. Aunt May had been gone four years, and he saw MJ less and less, she was always catching a flight to break the next big story. He hadn’t heard from Yuri since Hammerhead's mob war, and Dr. Octavius was rightfully serving his sentence on The Raft. Harry… well, Harry was a mystery. Miles was still around, but he was helping Peter cover the city, so they mostly saw each other for training sessions as he taught Miles the ins and outs of being Spider-Man.

Peter sighed, flicking some peeling paint off the bridge and watching as it fluttered down into the East River below. With his luck, it would probably poison some passing fish and end up disrupting the entire food chain. Unintended consequences haunted his every move.

His wrist buzzed, and Peter pulled up the notification in his lens display. It was a message from Mary Jane.

_MJ: Running a little late this morning, can you give me 10?_

His video chat with MJ! How had he almost forgotten? He fired back a quick response — _No problem, take your time! —_ and began swinging toward Chinatown and his apartment at breakneck speed.

Peter whizzed past office buildings and apartment blocks, debating whether to attempt a shower. He didn’t really have time for it, but if MJ saw him in his suit, she would know that he'd almost missed their call while patrolling. He'd blame the seven-hour time difference, but it would just be another time that Peter chose Spider-Man over MJ, or at least that’s how she'd see it. Maybe she was right.

But MJ had made the same choice, pursuing her career in journalism abroad instead of staying with him in New York. Not that he blamed her.

His daily patrols were little more than a band-aid compared to the work she was doing in raising awareness and exposing corruption, and Peter loved her for that, he really did. But it was hard not to worry when she was willingly running into conflict zones and natural disasters, or uncovering human rights violations in authoritarian regimes. New York was Peter’s home, so he stayed in his lane and did his best to fix what he could.

In the end, it was fear that ended their relationship. MJ hated how banged up he would get as Spider-Man, and he knew he couldn’t protect her outside of New York. All of that anxiety and worry grew between them until it festered, and both of them were too afraid to touch it.

Then MJ got the offer to go to Symkaria; if she didn’t take it, she knew she would regret it forever. Peter couldn’t ask her to stay in New York just for him, couldn’t ask her to give up on her dreams. So he let her go.

Two weeks in Symkaria became two months, and then six, and MJ insisted that they could make things work. They always found their way back to each other, didn’t they? But then it was Brasilia, then Mexico City, Sana’a, Caracas, and a dozen more places. The promises faded into maybes, and then she was telling him not to wait for her anymore, that they should see other people. That she was seeing someone.

Peter landed softly on the roof of his building, thankful that his apartment was on the top floor with a fire escape. He slipped inside and scrambled to grab his laptop, booting it up as he tossed his suit on the floor and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. He was still trying to find an angle for his camera that didn’t showcase dirty dishes or laundry when MJ’s video call rang.

“Hey, MJ. Good morning to you in… Damascus?” Peter said, eyeing a list taped to his refrigerator. “Or did you go to Warsaw already?”

“Damascus, but I’m actually leaving for Warsaw right after this call — the car should pick us up in twenty minutes. So, how are you, Peter?”

He told her half-truths about his life and work, downplayed his injuries and ignored his loneliness; those were his burdens to bear. In the back of his mind, Peter registered the sound of a shower turning off and MJ’s use of ‘us’ instead of ‘me’, but he chose not to ask anything. It was better not to know.

“Have you found anyone special?” MJ sounded hopeful, and a part of him whispered that she was looking for absolution, but he shoved it down.

“Not really. Been too busy with work at the lab and my patrols. I’ve been training Miles pretty regularly, too. No time to date, I guess,” Peter hedged. It sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

“You should really give it a shot, Peter. You’re a great guy and a real catch. You need to get out there.”

_If he was such a catch, why did she leave?_

“Yeah, okay. I’ll give it a try.”

“Good. Now tell me how Miles is doing! Is he still helping at FEAST?”

Five minutes later, MJ was waving goodbye, and the screen froze for a few moments as she disconnected, her face lit with joy as she smiled at someone off screen.

Peter could no longer ignore the hollowness in his chest. She seemed so happy, out there chasing stories across the globe, but was _he_ happy?

Or was he just the guy that got left behind?

* * *

Felicia

Felicia landed lightly on the rooftop, silent as she leapt from building to building and approached her target. The window above the fire escape was open, and she slipped inside before closing it behind her. Spider was always too trusting.

Once inside, Felicia walked into the kitchen and slipped a bottle of champagne into the refrigerator, glancing at the postcards stuck to the front. All from Red but nothing romantic, and it looked like she was out of the city pretty regularly.

Good, thought Felicia, though she wasn't afraid of a little competition.

It had taken all of three weeks before Felicia caved and dropped in on Spider, but she did her research before making a move. She was the Black Cat, after all.

Felicia had tailed Peter during his patrols, watching from a distance as he webbed up a few muggers and stopped the robbery of an armored truck. He was quick and efficient as he fought, wasting no motion, but something was off. He was hardly quipping during his fights, and some days he would finish his patrols early, sitting somewhere high up as he stared into the night sky.

One night, he wore the black Spider suit that she’d made for him, and Felicia felt that familiar urge in her belly, shifting lower as she watched him, hungry for his raw strength and ferocity. She tried to ignore the sentimental tug in her chest, the part of her that wondered if he was feeling nostalgic, and if he was thinking of her when he put on the black suit.

Would Peter be willing to see her, or would he still be angry that she’d used him to get to the Maggia's drives? The old Peter would forgive her, but now, Felicia wasn’t so sure.

Still, she knew how to be persuasive.

The shower was still going in the bathroom, so she took her time examining Peter’s small apartment. A few framed photos of his Aunt May were arranged on a small side table between the windows, plus some older ones including his uncle. The couch was old, and the rug was threadbare, but the overall effect was homey. Not that she was into that sort of thing.

Peter's desk was covered in schematics and his tinkering things, probably upgrades for his web-shooters. Still a very… _in-house_ operation, by her standards, but she couldn't argue with the results.

In his bedroom, the black Spider suit lay over the back of a chair, the red emblem bright as a ruby on the front. The material still felt familiar under her fingertips, and Felicia was proud of her handiwork; a match to her own suit in quality and craftsmanship. It was nice to see that he still appreciated her gifts.

Felicia's years abroad had been exciting, but they had forced her to face certain truths she'd been avoiding. She was tired of the movement, and all the old regrets had caught up with her once again, creeping into her waking hours and leaving her sleepless.

She missed Peter, and not just the excitement of the chase or the heat that churned within her as they came together. She missed waking up to Peter's face during that hazy month of paradise, his eyes warm and inviting as he reached to hold her close, his mouth and tongue reverent when he wanted more.

Mary Jane's shadow still tainted those memories, and the questions that had gnawed at Felicia every time he looked away — was he thinking of Mary Jane? Was Felicia just a gap, a momentary break in their story?

If she was honest with herself, she knew it wasn't so easy. Peter always offered so much, but she wasn't interested in rules to constrain and reshape her into some palatable version of herself just so he'd keep fucking her, no matter how good it was. No matter how he made her feel.

She dimmed the lighting in Peter's room and opened the curtains, letting the streetlights below cast shadows across the wall and pushing Red from her mind. Tonight was about seeing Peter again, and Felicia wouldn't let her doubts get in the way of a little fun.

"Cat?" Peter's voice was tense, his silhouette framed by the light from the bathroom. He stood in his towel, his muscles flexed in anticipation, as if he couldn't tell whether she was a threat.

A smile came unbidden to Felicia's lips, curling at the edges. "You've stayed in shape, Spider."

"Yeah, well, you know me. Gotta keep up with all the most talented cat burglars."

"I've missed our games."

Peter laughed nervously. "I was wondering if you were back in town. I heard two police reports about missing museum pieces last week, gone for days before they even realized. Those were you, weren't they?"

"Why, you want to chase me?"

Peter chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. The hint of a smile played at his lips as he spoke, "As fun as that normally is, I'm feeling too tired for a chase tonight. What do you want, Felicia?"

"Don't tell me you forgot our anniversary," Felicia chided, turning away as if stung by the admission.

"Our anniversary? Aren't you a few days early? I don't think we got together until..."

"I'm thinking of a different anniversary. Don't you remember? On the roof of the building after you caught me stealing that diamond."

"Oh… oh! _That_ anniversary," Peter said, blushing. "I, uh, I definitely didn't forget about _that_."

"Glad I made a lasting impression," she said, walking to Peter and running her clawed finger down his chest. "Do you trust me?"

"Maybe? I mean, yes."

Felicia laughed, seeing the redness creep up his neck and around his face. "Good, because I'm in the mood to celebrate."

She slipped out of her suit, taking her time with the zippers and keeping eye contact with Peter. "Don't worry, I know what you like."

He raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly. "What do I like, then?"

Felicia leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "You want me in charge and you want me to take what I want."

Peter gulped, and Felicia saw him twitch below his towel. "Yeah, I think I can do that."

* * *

Peter

Peter had stood quietly in the shower, letting the water wash over his face and back even when he didn't need it anymore. He felt tired, and not just because he hadn’t been able to sleep last night after his video chat with MJ, though that certainly didn't help.

It had finally hit him after weeks — maybe months — of denying it. MJ had moved on. It wasn’t that she was seeing other people while she was abroad, she was seeing another person, a presence that Peter had felt throughout the call, offscreen but within MJ’s view. Someone she couldn’t wait to get back to.

He remembered when that was him.

MJ wanted him to go out and meet people, to move on from her, but it felt so hopeless to put himself out there.

How was he supposed to meet someone and be a good boyfriend to them if they didn’t know about him being Spider-Man? And even if — by some miracle — he did make it to the point where he could trust someone with that secret, wouldn’t it already be too late?

He couldn't just drop that in someone’s lap without any warning, especially since they were there for Peter Parker, not Spider-Man.

Maybe that’s why he’d always believed that things would work out with MJ in the end, because she already knew both sides of him. There were no more surprises. Who else could be that for him?

And then Peter had stepped out of the bathroom and found Felicia Hardy standing in his bedroom, a fantasy made flesh. She wore her catsuit, slimmed down without all the extra gear and padding, her curves thrown in sharp relief by the low light.

Her eyes were hungry as she looked at him, and he realized that there _was_ someone else who knew both sides of him.

“Settle down now,” Felicia whispered in his ear, slipping an eye mask over his face to blindfold him as Peter lay in bed, “and remember, I’m in charge.”

“You know I can break these,” he said, jingling the handcuffs on his wrists.

“But will you want to?”

Peter laughed, but it quickly turned into a groan as he felt Felicia slide down his body, her fingers sending a pulse through him wherever she touched. It was always like this when they were together: she’d sweep in like a storm, whipping the waves into a froth as he tried to keep his head above water.

But why should he fight it? Why not drift in her wake, even if it was just for tonight?

Felicia pressed her lips to his stomach, leaving a trail of languid kisses further and further down, her fingers tracing lines along his thighs. Peter shuddered, feeling himself throb as she brushed against him, and let his mind slip away.

Felicia would leave after tonight. And when she did, Peter would feel more empty than before. It would probably break him, if history was anything to go by, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He'd rather get lost in the moment, surrender to the storm and let himself come undone at her touch.

After all, it was what they did best.

Peter moaned when she took him in her mouth, her movements torturously slow as she licked him along his length. He shivered, his senses in overdrive.

Felicia took her time in getting reacquainted with Peter and his body, whispering things that made his head spin and heart race. She had never had much patience when it came to sex, always eagerly getting lost in the frantic throes of passion, but this time something felt different.

He held his breath as Felicia picked up her pace, letting him hear what she was doing to him. Peter clenched at the sheets behind his head, careful not to pull the cuffs apart. The wet sounds she made drove him wild, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Peter gasped, and Felicia took it as a cue to slow down and replace her mouth with her hands, letting him get himself under control.

“Shit, Felicia.” Peter let out a shaky breath, pitching his head back into the pillow and letting his body unwind. He pulsed in her hand and she made a throaty sound, leaning her weight on his chest as she raised her lips to his ear.

“You'll finish when I’m done with you,” she whispered, nipping kisses down his neck and collarbone. “But until then, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

Peter nodded eagerly, drinking in the warmth of her body as she pressed against him. He felt her hand slip between them, playing with herself as she told him how wet he’d made her, and what she’ll be doing to him.

Peter throbbed with need for her, returning her kisses with all the hunger he felt in his body, and Felicia took it all greedily.

“I want you to taste me,” Felicia said, her breath on Peter’s ear as he melted against her. She slipped two fingers into his mouth, and he sucked at them, tasting her as she pressed into his tongue.

Peter groaned when she slid them out, and Felicia laughed, “There’s more where that came from, Spider.”

She gripped his jaw lightly, straddling his torso as she lowered her breast to his mouth. Peter took his time, sucking at her nipples and pressing with the flat of his tongue, delighting in the way that she gripped her fingers in his hair and shuddered above him. He lavished her with attention, lost in the motion of her pleasure as she squeezed her legs around him, content that she’d chosen to spend tonight with him.

Peter breathed heavily when Felicia pulled herself away, her own breath shaky as she spoke.

“Are you ready to taste me again?”

“God, yes.”

Felicia climbed up to sit on his face, pressing her sweetness into his mouth and tongue. Peter moaned into her, already lost in her heady scent and taste, her soft sounds of pleasure driving him wild.

“This is where you belong, worshipping me,” said Felicia, running her hands through his hair, and Peter moaned his assent.

He licked and sucked, his breathing picking up pace as she ground herself into him. Peter kept his tongue wide, letting her use his mouth however she pleased, and Felicia clenched her thighs tighter around him, running her fingers through his hair again before pulling off the blindfold.

Peter watched her from below, a sense of dreamy pleasure passing across her face as she squeezed her breasts and rode him.

“You make me feel so good,” she encouraged, her eyes meeting his own. "Yes, just like that."

Peter could feel himself throbbing as she used him and took her pleasure, and he couldn’t look away from her eyes as they shone with desire. He would do anything to make her feel good, to keep her feeling good, as long as she looked at him like that.

"Fuck," Felicia managed, her face flushed as she shuddered and climbed off him.

Her breathing came fast and shallow, and she threw her arms around Peter as she planted kisses along his neck and mouth, tasting herself on his lips.

Grabbing a condom from the bedside, she tore the wrapper and unrolled it onto his cock. Felicia wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and squeezed, humming excitedly.

"Did you miss me?" Peter asked.

"You could say that," said Felicia, straddling his waist. She brought her face close to his, locking eyes as she slid down onto him, his breath catching in his chest as she clenched his bicep for purchase. She let out a soft moan when he bottomed out into her, and shifted her hips to adjust to his thickness.

Peter moved inside her, tasting her lips in a blur of pleasure as they kissed. Felicia squeezed around him, bucking her hips as she rode him, lost in the throes of passion.

She freed his hands from the cuffs, and Peter stroked her skin wherever he could, her smoothness a revelation to him. Felicia pressed into his grip, rolling her hips with him as they came together and chased their beating hearts.

Being with Felicia was like grabbing a live wire or a bolt of lightning and holding on for dear life. Her skin was electric, sending every bit of him tingling as they breathed together, locked in their rhythm.

Peter slid his hands to her hips, guiding her into his thrusts as he picked up the pace, unable to wait any longer. He pressed his thumbs into her flesh and she shivered, clenching around him as she ran her fingers through his hair and over his chest.

Felicia wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and leaned her forehead against his, meeting his eyes. Her gaze was deep with meaning and Peter felt as if he'd been swept away, his mind jumping to old hopes and habits as if he'd been born to it.

"Ruin me, Peter," she whispered — or screamed, he couldn't tell anymore.

He lost himself in the rush, the sound of his name on her lips as his senses shivered with mounting pleasure. She called him Peter — not _Spider_ — as she came undone around him, and those three little words were nearly on his lips before he gave himself to abandon.

* * *

Felicia

Felicia padded back to the bedroom, gripping two mugs in one hand and the bottle of champagne in the other. She set them down and slipped one of Peter's flannel shirts on, leaving it unbuttoned. "No wine glasses?"

"I used to have two, but I shattered them while testing a sonic pulse device." Peter scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with her, "Haven't really needed to replace them. I don't think anyone's been over since MJ moved out."

He blushed a little, and Felicia almost teased him about it, but decided against it. Better to learn how he felt about MJ now. She wasn't interested in being the rebound again.

"I saw the postcards from Red on your fridge — has she been gone for long?"

He shrugged, his shoulders tense. "Yeah, on and off for years. She's been doing some great work, you know? Breaking big stories."

The rest went unspoken, something passing over Peter's face as he drifted back in thought. Did he miss her? Did he still love her?

Felicia wanted to know everything, but Peter had to share on his own terms, otherwise he'd clam up for good. But before she could think of what to say, he spoke again.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you about this. I shouldn't be talking about her right after we just…" Peter's face went red, and Felicia couldn't help but laugh. Adorable.

"After we just what? Started celebrating our anniversary?" Felicia asked, popping the cork from the bottle she'd brought — a 1985 Krug Brut that she'd nicked from some mark's cellar. "I asked about her, didn't I?"

Peter considered that for a moment before speaking, his idle hands picking at a chip in the mug that Felicia handed to him.

"Yeah, I guess I feel a little… listless. She's off chasing her dream — and that's great, I'm proud of her — but what am I doing? Almost everyone in my life has either moved on or is gone. Sometimes it just feels… lonely." Peter raised his mug, and clicked it against Felicia's. "Cheers."

_Damn, Red really did a number on him._

"So she wanted to leave and you wanted to stay?"

"It was more than that, but you don't want to hear about..."

"Peter," Felicia said, and he turned to her, his eyes open and vulnerable, and her heart swelled with the thrill of his attention. "You'll know if I don't want to hear it."

"Okay." Peter took a deep breath and explained the way he and MJ had fought about the risks each chose to take, and the way he'd felt helpless whenever she was away.

"I guess I finally understand what it's like to be the one at home, worrying."

"You didn't worry about me?" Felicia toyed, pouting at Peter.

He flushed and buried his face in his mug, "That's different. You can take care of yourself, and you know which risks to take. You're the one who saved my life, remember?"

Felicia shrugged, "You'd have done the same for me."

" _And_ I trust you," Peter added, his puppy-dog eyes peering over the rim of his mug.

"You _do_ trust me. I've always liked that about you. Can't say it was well placed."

Peter waved her off. "You've never been malicious. And it was real, while we were together. I've been thinking about those days a lot lately, about things I could have done differently."

Felicia sat on Peter's bed, leaning back against the headboard as she sipped her champagne. "Oh, so that's why you've been so distracted this week?"

"Been following me?" he asked in return. His mouth crooked into a smile.

"I'm a curious cat," Felicia reminded him. "You know that."

"Guess I do. Should I be worried?"

"Always."

Peter laughed, "Well, you were right earlier, I have been distracted. I love being Spider-Man, and I don't want to sound ungrateful, but after all these years I thought I'd have something for myself, too. Find someone, start a family, I don't know. That's probably selfish of me."

Felicia snorted. "You? Selfish? When has that ever been true?"

"Like when we were together — I was so fixated on the version of you I thought I wanted that I lost sight of why I liked you in the first place."

"My body?" Felicia asked, toying with the edge of his flannel, but her heart raced at his words. There were several reasons she'd returned to New York, and she'd be lying if she said Peter wasn't a big part of the equation.

"Come on, Felicia. I'm baring my soul over here," Peter joked. "Being with you just… comes naturally. It was so easy to fall for you, and I guess I was afraid of what that meant, so I took an easy out. I told myself you didn't deserve a second chance, but I think I was just afraid of change."

Peter looked like he had more to say, but Felicia leaned forward and kissed him, swallowing his words. "You weren't the only one who was afraid."

She laid down on the bed, tapping the spot beside her. Peter joined her, curling against her side as he traced his fingers along her skin, sending shivers in their wake.

Every instinct told Felicia to leave it there, revealing any more would be an opening, a vulnerability. But who was she without taking risks? The thrill was found in the unknown, in the moment where anything could happen — safety or danger, life or death.

So, she chose boldness.

"When we were together, I convinced myself that I only wanted Spider-Man," Felicia admitted. "I wanted the chase and the adrenaline and the sex, and that was it. I loved being the Black Cat, so that's how I lived."

"You know," he says, "Peter Parker, broke research assistant, has a _pretty_ sexy ring to it. Maybe even sexier than Spider-Man."

Felicia shoved him back into the pillows and rolled on top of him, pinning his hands to his chest. Peter matched her smile, and she felt something flutter in her chest. It should be illegal to be so cute.

"Peter Parker, sexy research assistant, _does_ have a nice ring to it, but in the back of my mind, he was always Mary Jane's. She wasn't out on the rooftops, but she had the real you."

That's why she'd kept stealing, in the end. She was tired of trying to change for someone else, and tired of waiting for MJ to wake up one day and realize what she'd left behind, taking it all back with a word.

Felicia always believed that Peter would jump at the chance to be with Mary Jane again, so she kept her distance. If she didn't let things get too serious, if she didn't change who she was only for him to abandon her, then she wouldn't have to hate herself when it all came crashing down.

And it would come crashing down, because Felicia couldn't just sit back and enjoy something — she had to pick and pry and toy with it until she had sabotaged any chance of happiness.

Peter leaned his head forward and kissed her lips, breaking her from her reverie.

"Do you have regrets? With how things went with us?"

She leaned forward and kissed him, holding his head as she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. "I'm not big on regrets, but I do miss parts."

"The chase?" Peter raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yes, but more than that. I missed quiet moments when it was just us, when you weren't Spider-Man or Peter Parker, and I wasn't Black Cat or Felicia Hardy — when we were just ourselves, together. Moments like this," Felicia said, kissing his collar bone. "And like this," she said, kissing his forehead.

Peter reached up and slid the flannel off her shoulders, and Felicia arched into him, running her hands against his toned back. When they kissed, there was the tingle of something stronger there, the memory of a passion that had frightened Felicia years ago.

But things had changed, they both had changed, and Felicia was no longer afraid. She trusted Peter in a way she trusted no one else, so when she melted into him, she knew with all the surety of her beating heart that she would fall this time, and fall hard. And for once, she was okay with that.

Felicia pressed her lips to his shoulder, slipping her hand below to guide him to her entrance. She was still aroused from his touch and the look in his eyes, and she knew that this time would be different than the first.

This time she chased the feelings that came to her so easily, and when she caught them, she knew she wouldn't let go.

As Peter moved inside her, she whispered encouragements in his ear, his name on her lips as she shivered around his thrusts.

"Right there, don't stop," she said, their hips rolling in tandem as they came together.

"Fuck," Peter muttered, his muscles flexing as he gripped her waist, thrusting from below.

Felicia guided his hands to her breasts, holding them against her as she rode him, faster and faster. She heard the rush in her ears, her body slick against him as she clenched her thighs.

She felt molten in his hands, lost in the rhythm of their pleasure. She could feel him filling her, stretching her like a good ache, his fire burning in her core. Felicia stared into Peter's eyes, and there was desire there, but also something more.

"Do you trust me, Peter?"

She could feel him increase his pace at the sound of his name. "Yes, I trust you."

"Then let go."

* * *

Peter

Peter blinked awake, rubbing slowly at his eyes as he shaded them from the sun. It was still early — he must have forgotten to close the blinds last night. He usually remembered to do that. Why had he…

 _Felicia_.

He turned to the spot next to him in bed, knowing it was empty before he even looked. Peter was a little disappointed, but not surprised; he’d never expected her to stay. Still, he felt better than he had in weeks.

As they fell asleep last night, Peter had tried to stay awake, savoring their moments together. Felicia had drifted off slowly, curling her back into him as he wrapped his arms around her, her hair tickling his face.

Peter had stayed still and quiet, listening to the sound of her breathing as he felt the subtle rise and fall. There was a surge of protectiveness that had coursed through him — which was absurd, she didn't need any protection — though he felt it all the same.

Aunt May used to tell him he fell too easily and too fast, that he needed to learn to guard his heart from being hurt. She had probably been right, but Peter didn't know how to live that way. So he kept his heart open and hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Maybe this was their second chance — if she wanted that. He might have gone overboard last night, but there was something real there, a connection.

There was a sound from the bathroom, and Felicia stepped out, dabbing at her face with a towel. She was wearing her suit already, her hair pulled back into her signature ponytail.

“You stayed?” Peter asked, his mind jumping to assign meaning to her decision. _She stayed the night._

“You look surprised,” Felicia said before throwing the towel at him. “It’s very cute. Your bathroom is surprisingly not terrible, by the way.”

“Oh… um, thanks?”

Walking over to the side of his bed, she leaned forward and kissed him, her thumb stroking the side of his face. “Did you enjoy our anniversary?”

Peter chuckled, the memories of last night swirling in his mind and making his heart race. “You could say that. Can I see you again? Soon?”

“You can call me tomorrow night.” Felicia sat on the edge of the bed beside him, biting her lip as she stared at his bare chest. “And Peter? I want to do it right this time, so let’s take things slow.”

“Slow?”

“Well, at least emotionally. A girl’s got needs, and you know how to… fill them,” Felicia said, trailing her fingers down his belly.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Peter stammered. "Whatever speed you want."

There was a telltale twitch in his boxers and Felicia hummed her approval.

She stood and crossed to the window, opening it before putting her goggles on. “Sorry to leave you hanging, but I’ll text you something to help.”

“Do you have to leave?”

"I'll be late if I don't. My mom gets mad when I blow her off, and I want her to keep babysitting for me."

_Babysitting…?_

“Wait,” Peter interrupted, “Why is your mom babysitting for you, Felicia?”

“Well, I trust her. And she doesn’t charge me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Peter felt his jealousy rear its ugly head and tried to clamp it down. It wasn't his business, but he couldn't help asking anyway, "Is that why you left New York? You have a kid now?"

“It’s why I left New York the first time, but you already knew that.”

_The first time, after they'd broken up?_

“But… that was all a lie to fool me into helping you against Hammerhead! You told me it wasn’t true, there was no baby!”

“I told you it was a misdirection, don’t you remember? I would never put our son in danger like that,” Felicia said, climbing out the window. She gripped the edge, leaning back as she readied to jump.

Peter crossed to the window and leaned out after her. “Felicia, is it really true? Can we talk about this, like, now?”

“It’s true — I like to play dirty but I’m not _that_ cruel. But I’m running late, remember? Call me tomorrow night.”

“Can you just tell me something about him? His name? Something… real?”

Felicia stared at him for a moment, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

“Walter.”

“Like your dad,” Peter said, feeling his heartbeat return to normal.

“Yes. Walter _Benjamin_.” She kissed Peter on the cheek one last time, and then she was gone, swinging away into the gathering dawn.

_Walter Benjamin._

Peter continued to stare out the window, a sense of peace settling over him. Felicia had fooled him before, but there was something in the way she looked at him that convinced him.

Four years ago, when Felicia had fooled him, the part that hurt the most wasn’t that she had lied, but that it hadn't been true.

Peter hadn't understood what he was feeling at the time, telling himself he was relieved, that it was too complicated. All the while Uncle Ben's words whispered in the back of his mind, _'there's nothing wrong with messy and complicated, Peter. Nothing worth doing ever came easy.'_

There was a buzz from Peter’s nightstand and he collapsed back onto his bed to grab his phone. There were three new texts from ‘Sex Kitten’ — Felicia, of course — so Peter opened them.

_Sex Kitten: Told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging, XOXO_

Peter flipped through the photos, feeling himself stiffen in his boxers. They were all selfies taken from last night when she had him blindfolded, with Felicia looking suggestively into the camera in each one: as she rode his face, as she licked him, as they fucked.

After a shuddering breath, Peter flipped back to the first image and made himself comfortable, slipping his hand into his pants. That was why she’d sent the pictures, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hell yes I'm a Spiderkitten truther! I hope you enjoyed part 1 of my Peter/Felicia Week series! There is plenty more to come, so subscribe to the series for more smut, feelz, and SpiderCat goodness!
> 
> Come yell at me over on [ The Tumblr Hellscape ](https://justmattycakes.tumblr.com/)


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